And here is the same wind


Lance Henson

And here is the same wind
from across each border holding its hands open

its hands that are broken

and here it is late winter
in the varied passages of these days as none before
we hear the one name for ourselves
repeating over and over

and here what is torn out of the darkness
sits in a cold place watching us

what is there to be remembered
that could change us

the doors opening and closing
in our dreams
in our faces

and here … … … …

in this place cold enters the room
soon it will be dusk

as if from another world
dark birds gather along the edges of this page

in a shade of oak trees
a raven watches my little girl playing
in the garden

their eyes meet
as seemingly once before

in the winged wind of a dream …

april 19, 2002
untere hueb,suisse

© 1998 Lance Henson

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